


a little rush

by LoBoat



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Minor Injuries, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:52:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21974602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoBoat/pseuds/LoBoat
Summary: Clint gets hurt during a mission, and Bucky makes him feel better in the best way he knows how.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48
Collections: MCU Christmas Exchange





	a little rush

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jstabe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jstabe/gifts).



The quinjet was quiet, the sound of the engines the only thing filling the space between the team. It had been a tough battle, one that ended in a lot more civilian casualties than it should have. Luckily the team had slipped out mostly unscathed, Clint sustaining the worst injury of them all. He’d been forced to leap from his sniper’s perch at the last minute, his ankle cracking on impact and leaving him limping to the sidelines. 

Bucky had been at his side in a flash, metal arm wrapping around his waist and all but hauling him towards the jet where Bruce was waiting ready to hop into the action if he was needed. Bucky had left Clint, grazing a kiss along the sweaty hairline of the blonde before ducking back out into the fray. The battle lasted a while longer, and by the time the team returned to the jet sweaty and exhausted, Bruce had managed to wrap and elevate Clint’s ankle. He’d tried his hardest to conceal the pain, but Bucky could see it written plainly across his face. 

Clint was stretched out on one of the benches, his head pillowed in Bucky’s lap, Bucky’s flesh fingers stroking through his filthy blonde hair in an attempt to soothe his pain. Clint laid claim to Bucky’s metal fingers, threading his own through them, thumbing at the smooth grooves of his plates every so often. 

They arrived back to the tower quickly, partly in thanks to Natasha’s driving, and Clint was whisked away to the infirmary the minute they landed. The rest of the team was swept into debriefings and by the time Bucky managed to slip away Clint was stretched across the bed in their shared rooms. His eyes cracked open and he flashed Bucky a dopey smile, hands reaching out to snag Bucky’s fingers as he passed by.

“You should be restin’ doll,” Bucky sighed, the backs of his fingers grazing Clint’s cheekbones. Clint’s smile only grew, the hand that had previously gripped Bucky’s hand moving to grasp at the belt of his tac pants. 

“C’mere. Lay with me,” Clint whined, tugging uselessly at his pants. Bucky snorted softly, bending down to brush another kiss to Clint’s temple while he gently detached his hand from his pants. 

“Let me clean up first,” Bucky placates him with a kiss on the lips this time, breaking away with a quiet sigh when Clint tries to deepen it. Despite the whiny protests, Bucky ducks into their ensuite and makes quick work of his tac suit, unstrapping and stowing his weapons in a safe place until he has time to properly care for them. His shower is quick, hurried but efficient as he’s eager to return to Clint and the soft haven that is their bed. 

Bucky forgoes boxers and a shirt, simply slipping on a pair of grey sweats that ride dangerously low on his hips. He drains two glasses of water from the bathroom sink and fills a third for Clint knowing that the man hadn’t moved from the bed since returning. Clint had scooted his way to half sitting against the pillows in the time that Bucky was gone, TV remote in his hand as he flicked through channels before settling on Dog Cops The Movie.  
Bucky slips onto the mattress, careful to not jostle Clint’s ankle where its been casted and propped up on a small mountain of pillows. Clint sits up enough to let Bucky settle behind him, his legs slotting on either side of Clint’s hips. Clint relaxes against Bucky’s chest, his head pillowed by Bucky’s flesh shoulder. 

They settle into a comfortable silence, Bucky relaxing for the first time in nearly six hours as he watched the Lieutenant chase after his latest culprit. He had thought that Clint had dozed off finally, having gone so quiet, until he felt him squirming minutely where he sat. Bucky glanced down surprised to see Clint’s cheeks flushed a light pink, the color slipping down the collar of his black t-shirt. His eyes travel a little further to see Clint’s cock tenting the crotch of his pants, definitely more than half hard. His hands squeeze into fists periodically, almost as if Clint’s resisting the urge to touch himself. It wasn’t a shock to Bucky that Clint has hard in his pants, it was a common occurence to fuck the last of their adrenaline out after a normal mission, let alone one as intense as it was for Clint. 

“Alright there doll?” Bucky’s voice is deep, as thick as honey where he murmurs into Clint’s ear, teeth tugging at the lobe gently. Clint lets out a quiet whine, his squirming growing more noticeable. Bucky’s hands find his hips, gripping the sharp angles there to hold Clint still. He feels the blonde huff and press back into Bucky’s chest harder. 

“C’mon Buck, don’t tease,” Clint groans, turning his head enough to capture Bucky’s lips in a searing kiss. Bucky nips at the blonde’s lip, tongue slipping into his mouth when Clint’s lips part around a surprised gasp. 

“But you’re so pretty when you’re gagging for it,” Bucky smirks, chuckling at the glare Clint sends him. He gives in, his flesh hand sliding from Clint’s hips to the bulge in his sweats, now fully hard and straining against the seam. Clint lets out a breathy sigh as the warmth from Bucky’s hand soaks through the fabric. His fingers find the head of Clint’s cock, his thumb dragging the scratchy fabric across the tip and delighting in the frustrated whine he receives. 

“Bucky, please.” Clint grunts, his hips thrusting in a half aborted motion, Bucky’s metal hand still retaining a firm grip on his hips. Bucky’s own cock was showing interest in their activities, stiffening against Clint’s back. His hand slips underneath the waistband of Clint’s sweats, nudging them down enough to allow his cock to spring free. 

Clint’s cock was hot in Bucky’s hand, the familiar weight of it heavy against Bucky’s palm. His thumb smeared the precome that was beading out the tip. Bucky let it slowly lubricate his strokes, keeping his hand just tight enough to give Clint some relief but not nearly as much as the blonde wanted. Clint’s bottom lip was trapped between his teeth, muffling the soft sounds he made. “This what you need baby? My hand stroking your thick cock? Let me hear you beg for it sugar.” 

“Bucky, fuck. More, I need more.” Clint’s voice was breathy, whines spilling from his lips interspaced with quiet gasps. Bucky chuckles quietly, lips pressing gentle kisses to Clint’s temple. His hair was starting to curl at the edges, slick with sweat and still smelling of the battle. 

He takes pity on the whining man, tightening his grip and increasing the pace of his hand. Clint’s head turns, his face nuzzling in the crook of Bucky’s neck. A pitchy whine is muffled into Bucky’s neck and Clint’s hips strain against Bucky’s grasp. He feels his orgasm building, coiling in his stomach as Bucky pulls all the stops, his metal hand slipping up Clint’s chest to tweak and tug at his nipples beneath his shirt. 

“Close, ‘m close Buck, please!” Clint moans, his hips arching to meet Bucky’s hand. Bucky shushes him softly, his nose buried in Clint’s hair as he jerks him towards completion. He tips Clint’s face up to connect their lips in a sloppy searing kiss. 

“Come on Clint. Come for me sugar,” Bucky urges, thumbing at the slit of Clint’s weeping cock. He delights at Clint’s expression as he comes, his nose scrunching and his eyes fluttering closed as he paints his shirt white with his cum. Bucky jerks him through it, lips peppering kisses to Clint’s face, his hand only stopping when Clint begins to whine from the oversensitivity. Clint sags against Bucky’s chest, his own heaving from his breathing as Bucky wipes him as clean as he can and rights his clothing once more. 

“I may need another shirt,” Clint mumbled quietly, a grin stretching across his lips at the sound of Bucky’s chuckling. He assists Bucky in the task of stripping his shirt off and drawing back the blankets. By the time they’re finished, Clint is yawning sleepily and barely manages to down the glass of water Bucky makes him drink before he leaves him be. “Stay?”

“Wouldn’t imagine being anywhere else,” Bucky soothes, tucking Clint more securely into his side. Clint hums happily as Bucky threads his fingers through Clint’s hair, gently detangling the knots throughout the longer parts of his mohawk. It doesn’t take long for Clint to drift off, his soft snores tickling Bucky’s neck where his face is nestled. Bucky lays there for a while, content to listen to the sound of Clint’s breathing until he drifts off himself. Later they’d wake up and struggle down to the kitchen for coffee and treats with the rest of the team, but for now the pair was content to sleep off the battle entwined in each other.


End file.
